Llilith rode on her master’s horse as he walked in front and led it with one hand on its bridle. There was no saddle, she rode bareback with her toned and bare legs clinging tightly to the horse. Little phalluses that filled her were kept in place by the tightly fitted chastity harness, and they kept her senses on fire as they teased her and mildly pleasured her with every step that horse took, every movement causing you body to shift and her muscles to flex to keep her balance.

She wore almost nothing else, save tor the collar and the thin cuffs that always adorned her ankles and her wrists. That night, before they left, her master had also dressed her in a loin cloth of skins that did little more than to hide the delicate chastity belt that she wore. He had her hair groomed to hang unpinned and wild around her face, adorned with beading and feathers. She had watched in the mirror as she had been so groomed, seeing herself as a wildling, like some feral primitive of ages past.

As she rode her wrists were bound together before her, and she held on to the mane of the horse to keep herself steady while her slender legs squeezed tightly against the horse. It added to her pleasure as she felt the muscles of the beast against her bare legs and ass. Her tightened body felt the phalluses claiming her with every smooth step of the war horse along the trails and it drove her lust with a low thrill of sensuality as she pictured and felt herself. The heat of the night’s air kept her flesh warm while her nakedness and helpless aquiessence raised goose bumps and tiny chills over her body. A captive offering, a subjugated princess… the imagery drifted through her mind’s eye as she felt herself carried to her some unknown fate.

And as they wandered through the forest, along little used paths and abandoned trails of the woods that weaved between the long withered and shattered remains of a once great yet unnamed city, she felt Them.

The spirits of those that had once lived there centuries before, the primitive and untamed wildlings from a time that was forgotten, a time forgotten when even these first cities were built, cities that were now only ruins and rubble that dotted the forest around them. She had always had the sight, to see the spirits and walk among them… it was one of the many reasons her master treasured her so.

And here she could feel Them, but they had no words for her. They had no words for themselves. In their time, they were a people only of feral instinct and desire, of raw passion and untamed hunger. She felt them touching her, welcoming her, fawning on her and walking with her as her master walked ahead, and she felt herself sucked into the raw animal drives as she was carried deep into the woods.

Her master did not speak as they entered a clearing. He took her down from the horse and let her kneel on the soft ground while he built a fire, unneeded in the heat of that night. He left her hands bound as he fed her and held a bowl of wine to her lips. The wine was spiced. she recognized the herbs that she was given to drive her lust and heat her flesh and blood with desire. she watched the fire in silence and felt her hips rolling and moving to take pleasure from her harness as the spirits moved around her. They touched her and whispered with unintelligible sounds, drawing her into their sense of being… welcoming her as one of them.

She barely noticed when her master freed her body from the harness and the phallus which had filled her sex and anus. She turned to gaze at him, and yet in her mind she had no words to express her desires and emotions. Her own spirit had risen up in her. She felt a growing restlessness… a need to move, to release the pent up emotions she could not express…

To run. The spirits coaxed her, filling her with the need to run. They showed her… let her feel it… it was their game of old, their courtship…

Run… and be claimed… run… let the fastest claim you.

Springing to her feet, she ran from the fire and into the darkness. She did not run from fear, she ran because she had to. Her body could not deny the need… to run.

She ran through the forests, her night vision was keen and the agility of dancer’s physique allowed her to move swiftly through the undergrowth, avoiding limb and bramble with ease. Somehow she knew the forest even though she had never been her before. She ran and felt her heart pounding, her breath playing soft undertones, a song or anxious whimpers, she did not know which.

She stopped and hugged a tree, spinning around it to look behind her, and saw Him moving steadily behind her in the distance. Naked but for the skins she wore, barefoot, still she moved faster than he. Her ears somehow could hear him, and his mark on her body tingled always with his nearness. The star sapphire upon her collar glowed deep purple, the star a brilliant point of light even in the moonlit darkness as she sprang from the tree with an animal cry of excitement and exhilaration, the hunted beast, challenging a mate to find her, to catch her.

She ran and her senses reeled with the freedom she felt, like some pent up feral restlessness that had to be discharged, the wind blowing her hair back around her face. In time she could not hear Him behind her and she looked back, seeing nothing behind her. Feeling that she had lost him, she came to a small stream and realized her own thirst. She squatted down, her feet flat, by the bank and drank, seeing herself in the water by the light of the moon as she cupped the water into her hand and raised it to her mouth over and over. She saw a beast, her hair tangled and beaded, now adorned with the leaves and twigs of her passage through the undergrowth. She saw the deep welling darkness in her eyes, the heave of her body as she still breathed heavily from her flight.

But then she looked up and saw him on the other side. He had circled around and knew she would come her… he knew, like a hunter, that the beast would go to water. He had been waiting. She uttered a little wild cry of both laughter and feral challenge, trying to leap away.

But he was too close, and was onto her quickly. He pushed her down onto her back and held her arms over her head as she squirmed and fought. It was not the desperate fight of a trapped animal, but a fight to enjoy the strength that held her, the helplessness of being claimed. She wanted to feel his strength, to know that she was taken, as the spirits that lived there had shown her.

She squirmed on the river bank as her arms framed her wild face, looking up at him, her wrists pinned over her head with one of his hands. The soft and wet clay of the muddy bank a sensual lather against her helpless naked body as she continued to test his strength, softly uttering wild and incoherent noises as she writhed in the strength of his hold.

He dragged her body by her arms to the soft grass by the stream and loomed over her, tearing the simple loin cloth from her body while her legs reached out to grasp him, wrapping around his own legs, both fighting him and clinging to him, her body still filled with restless desire.

He kept her arms pinned and he used his fingers to tease her between her straining and taut legs. watching her, his desire to keep her wild even as he held her pinned. He stripped himself as he held her down, a slow process while he touched and fondled her greedily with his free hand.

Finally he lowered his lips to her throat and kissed her with a light nip, then covered her mouth with his own and kissed her with a deep and lustful kiss, his tongue claiming and plundering her mouth as she writhed frenetically beneath him. The rigid shaft of his cock was against her opened folds as he leaned forward in his kiss, and each movement of her legs caused the ridged shaft to stroke the sensitive membranes of her parted slit.

His lips moved to each of her breasts and ravished her, suckling at each nipple, his tongue lavishing the hardened little points as it swirled around the aureoles and ground softly against them. He felt her body’s struggles becoming more desperate yet succumbing to the pleasure and to his desires. When he felt her begin to surrender, it was then that he claimed her.

He held her wrists pinned over her head with one hand as he mounted her, and with a slow driving thrust filled her body until his pelvis pressed hard against her mons, grinding down against her, but then quickly starting to take her with steady and powerful movements of his body. Each pounding thrust of his cock driving their pleasure while he claimed her so forcefully. She could form no words, but her arms struggled still, only wanting now to touch him, but reveling in the sense of being held, of being helpless, of being claimed.

He kissed her deeply as he rode her, and raised himself to look down at her darkened eyes. His eyes held hers in it’s gaze while he indulged his pleasure. Her body moved with his, ridden and claimed, obedient and matching his thrusts with her own. She wanted his pleasure, she wanted her pleasure… together they rode faster and faster until she felt the telltales of her master’s pleasure. As his body trembled with the tensing muscles of his building climax, she let herself go and released, her orgasm crashing around her as she felt the heat of his seed pulsing into her.

Only then did he release her arms, and she held his shoulders while he loomed over her, his hips still rolling to enjoy the clenching muscles of her body in the throes of her orgasm. Slowing his thrusts, he watched her until she calmed, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

He lay with her on the grass, and the toll of her wild run and hard use played on her, and soon she slept.

In time, she awoke again, and again she was Llilith, the adored slave and treasured pet. She could hear the beat of her master’s heart as her head rested on his chest, and she felt his powerful arm around her shoulder. She smiled to herself. She could feel the feral creature that was within her, the unnamed creature that had risen up that night, and she imagined to herself that it might now be purring. Like the spirits of the ones she had been in congress with, she too had been claimed in their timeless and primitive dance of courtship.

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